


30 Days of Domesticity

by luckypixi



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-18 11:43:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11290032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckypixi/pseuds/luckypixi
Summary: 30 semi-related chapters following the domestic bliss of Arthur and Eames. From moving in together, shopping and paying the bills, to the sound of wedding bells...





	1. Moving in Together

**Author's Note:**

> A nice dose of fluffy love and goodness for Arthur and Eames! I hope you enjoy, if so, please leave a comment and let me know what you think!

Moving In Together

'If I had known you had this much stuff I would never have invited you.'

Eames put down the box and stood with his hands on his hips. He surveyed his cluttered kitchen, it's dark marble and chrome surfaces obscured by boxes and bags. 'I have noticed that I'm the one doing all the to-ing and fro-ing, you know. What exactly have you done for the last half an hour?'

Arthur looked up at him, glasses almost falling off his nose. He had been sat on a high stool at the breakfast bar, leafing through another box, this one filled with his paperback novels, which was teetering on the edge of the circular table.

They had started to shift all of Arthur's belongings into Eames' upmarket apartment this morning; it was now nearly six in the evening. Granted, they did get a little distracted come lunchtime, when they had brought in the boxes for the bedroom. They were both exhausted and Arthur knew Eames got crabby when he got tired.

'One more to go.' He assured the Forger, leaning forwards to catch his mouth. Eames grunted and deepened the kiss. He brought his hand up to cup his Point Man's face, holding him there, the other hand resting on his thigh.

'You better be worth it.' He murmured, lips curling in a smile, grey eyes sparkling.

'Every sweaty step up those stairs.' Arthur nodded, pushing Eames back and standing up. He pushed his glasses up again and Eames chuckled; he knew Arthur hated wearing the glasses, but his eyes needed the occasional break from the contact lenses he usually wore.

Arthur made for the corridor which led to the front door. 'Why don't you be a dear and put the kettle on!' He called, looking over his shoulder. 'Rest those old legs.'

'Old legs?' Eames called back, outraged. 'I'll have you know, there's plenty of life left in these limbs yet.'

'Uh huh' Arthur smiled as he disappeared, jogging the two flights of steps to his car, parked in front of the apartment.

Eames scoffed and grinned, busying himself with making tea. He could never trust Arthur to do it properly.

As he waited for the kettle to boil he stood with his back against the unit and crossed his legs. He looked around his apartment again. It was open planned and airy, with all the living room visible from the kitchen. After years of a solitary life, just him, it felt strange, foreign to him to have someone else moving in. But it was nice to see the mix of his and Arthur's things. Arthur's jacket laid carefully on the back of his sofa; a couple of Arthur's china coffee mugs hung on his cup tree. He could smell Arthur's Cologne fill the rooms of his home. All the cardboard boxes containing his partners belongings peppering his floor. It was all very reassuring.

'That's dangerous, you know.'

Eames jumped as Arthur walked back in and deposited the final box, which seemed to be filled with shoes, on the floor.

'What's that, love?' He asked, putting tea bags in two cups and pouring boiling water over the top.

'Thinking. I could practically see the cogs whirring through your forehead.'

Eames grinned as he stirred two sugars into Arthur's cup. He shrugged and looked back at his partner, who smiled at him.

'What were you thinking about?' Arthur asked as Eames splashed in some milk, removed the teabag and handed the cup to him.

Eames took a sip of his own tea. He liked his tea builder's strength. 'Nothing.' He gestured to the room as a whole. 'This. Us.' He looked sheepishly at Arthur, who frowned, put down his cup and walked forwards, putting his hands on Eames' hips.

'Us?' He leaned forwards to catch Eames' eye. 'We're good, right?' Arthur always looks endearingly young when he's uncertain; it's not a look Eames sees often.

Eames looked up and tried to hide his grin. 'No.' He deadpanned. He softened his expression and encircled Arthur's waist to pull him close.

'We're bloody perfect.'


	2. Lazy Sunday Morning

Lazy Sunday morning

The alarm buzzed, but Arthur ignored it. He pulled the duvet closer to his chin and sighed, moving backwards into the warm heat of Eames' chest. The Englishman coughed in his sleep and tightened his one armed grip around Arthur's middle.

After a hard week of research into a highly suspicious Mark, this was the last day before they went under. Tensions had been high and tempers were frayed. Tomorrow they would travel to San Francisco with Cobb to remove the information they needed.

But that was tomorrow. 

Today however, Arthur had no plans to do anything. Anything work-related, that is.

The alarm continued to buzz and the Point Man opened one eye, groaning as he reached forward to turn it off.

'If you even think about leaving this bed,' yawned Eames, who pulled him back and buried his head into the crook of his neck, 'I will handcuff you to the headboard.'

Arthur grinned and leaned to lay a kiss on his partner's forearm, stretching his legs. 'You know I'd enjoy that too much.'

Eames hummed in agreement, grinning lazily. He placed a hand on Arthur's stomach and rubbed small circles with his thumb. 'What time is it, love?'

Arthur groaned and leaned back towards the clock. 'Just after seven.'

Eames scoffed and turned onto his back, the duvet falling down his chest to pool at his stomach. Arthur admired, as always, the myriad of tattoos adorning his lovers bare chest. Eames closed his eyes and reached out his arm, pulling Arthur down so his head was resting above his heart. 

'Why are we even awake?' moaned Eames. 'Its still dark outside.' He sighed melodramatically. 

As a general rule, Eames was an evening person; he loathed getting up early and worked best late at night. Arthur, on the other hand, was more productive in the morning. This had led to a few problems between them, culminating in Arthur sleeping on the couch one night when Eames refused to switch off the light. 

'No it isn't!' laughed Arthur, snuggling back down and entwining their legs again. The silk sheets felt cool against his skin. He traced a serpent tattoo winding it's way around his partner's naval, making Eames squirm. 'It only looks dark because you insist on those blackout curtains.'

'That tickles.' Eames murmured, reaching down to press a kiss to the top of Arthur's head. He caught Arthur's fingers in his and Arthur looked up and squinted at him, smiling gently. The Point Man shimmied up the bed to capture his partners mouth in a kiss, moving to straddle his hips. Eames laid his hands either side of his waist and held him close. After a few minutes of exchanging kisses, Arthur broke apart and looked down at Eames. He loved easy days like this, when they could both let their guards down and just be themselves.   
He bent down and caught the shell of Eames' ear in his teeth.

'Breakfast?' He breathed. 

Eames widened his eyes and turned his head. 'Before eight in the morning? It's like you don't know me at all!' he pouted. He preferred lunch to be his first meal of the day.

Arthur smirked; Eames definitely wasn't a morning person. 

'Full English?' He yawned, sitting back up in Eames' lap. Eames gave a soft moan at the loss of skin to skin contact, but grinned at his partner.  
'Keep the tomatoes and it's a deal.' he told him, rolling his hips obscenely.

Arthur grinned and swung his legs onto the floor, still completely naked. Eames wolf whistled and leaned back into bed to admire the view.

Arthur made a show of walking the long way around the bed to pull on a pair of pyjama bottoms, stretching his muscles as he did.

'If you keep doing that I'm going to have to drag you back in here and have my way with you.' Eames followed him hungrily with his eyes and sat up. 

'I'd be so lucky.' Arthur grinned, stalking towards the door. 

Eames cocked an eyebrow and moved to stand up, equally naked. He padded across the floor.

'Oh really?' He drawled, 'Is that a challenge?'

'I thought you wanted a full English? Minus tomatoes?' Arthur grinned as Eames captured him around the waist, pulling them flush.

'Later...' Eames kissed his neck.

'Its only early, after all.'


	3. Getting a Pet

Getting a pet

'We're not getting a gecko, Arthur.'

'Well we're damn well not getting a dog, Eames!'

Eames stood in the middle of the shopping court, hands on his hips. Arthur stood opposite him, balancing on his crutches. After breaking his leg in three places after being pushed down some stairs in a chase, Arthur had been stuck at home and slowly turning stir crazy. He had alphabetised Eames' bookshelf within the first week, sat on the counter top to clean insides of the kitchen cupboards within the second and had read through four of his autobiographies in the third. He could hobble short distances fairly well, which meant he could still get out and about every now and then.

So Eames had decided that while he was away doing jobs with Cobb and Ariadne, he would get Arthur a pet. Something to talk to, to look after, he said. Something to keep his partner company, before Arthur started talking to the plants.

Arthur had been less than impressed.

'Look, let's just go to the bookshop, I'll find another book to read-'

'Hey, you just said you wanted a gecko!' 

'I said I'd rather have a gecko than a dog!'

'But mans best friend, love! Look-' Eames took Arthur by the arm and helped him shuffle to the display window. Inside, piles of fluffy animals lay curled up in their beds. Eames always had pets growing up; a devoted German shepherd called Badger, several cats and a parrot who only knew swear words. 

'Look at them,' he cooed, 'tell me truthfully your heart isn't melting just a little.

Arthur looked, balancing heavily on one hand. He scrunched up his nose and turned back to his partner. ' I don't like dogs,' he told him flatly, 'not since I was mauled by those dogs during the Walker Job.'

Eames scoffed and looked at him. 'I understand that, darling, I do. But these are just babies! You can train one that isn't drawn to your intestines like a magnet.'

'At least a gecko won't try and eat me.'

Eames smacked him up the back of the head, turning to grin at a woman who sniggered good naturally at their argument. They were attracting a bit of attention now.

'A gecko needs lights and a viva- vivra...'Eames gestured with his hand.

'Vivarium.' supplied Arthur, sighing and looking back at the puppies. He watched a little girl pull her father by the hand to his knees, watched her face break into a huge smile when her father nodded. He smiled at the joy on her face as she picked one, a black and white collie cross, and cradle it to her body.

He never had pets growing up. Too much trouble, his mom used to say. His cousin used to have a horse , which he had learned to ride. He couldn't see Eames agreeing to keep a horse in his apartment.

Arthur turned back to Eames, who had a wide eyed look on his face. Arthur turned back to the girl and saw her happiness. He turned back to his Englishman. Eames eyed him, biting his lip. He looked like a little kid himself. Arthur felt himself soften.

'We'll have a look. A look, Eames.'

Eames broke into a huge grin, and squeezed his arm, leading him into the store. 

The store was full of people talking and dogs yapping, birds squawking and rodents squeaking. It smelt a bit like hay, mixed with farmyard. Eames was positively bouncing on his heels as he led the way to the puppy section.

Arthur limped along behind him, watching where he put his crutches. He swore under his breath when a small child ran into his cast, narrowly missing standing on his toes. He looked back to where Eames was standing waiting for him. The Englishman looked impatiently at him.

'Come on, Arthur! Come and see.'

'Hold on, you child.' grinned Arthur, hobbling to his side. 'I can't walk as fast as you.'

Eames grinned and held his arm gently, giving Arthur a rest. 'Look-' he said, turning around to look at the puppies, who had come yapping to see what was going on. 'Aren't they gorgeous?'  
Arthur looked down and balanced his crutches against the rail. They were pretty cute, he had to admit. A small brown fluff ball stood up on its legs, leaning to lick his hand. He let it, using his other hand to struck it's fur.

A helpful looking member of staff seemed to pop up by his elbow. 'Seven month old female, collie cross retriever.' She said, smiling at him. 

Arthur nodded his thanks and leaned down to pick the puppy up. It barked hyperactively at him, licking his face. Arthur laughed, looking at Eames who grinned, moving forward to stroke her. She turned to lick his hand. 

'See?' He breathed, smiling as he held Arthur by the waist. 'She'll be good for you.' He couldn't stand to see Arthur so down.

Arthur hummed in agreement, looking down into the puppies striking blue eyes. 'I think she will be. Besides, not all dogs devour human flesh.'

'Told you.' smiled Eames, kissing him on the cheek. 

'Ok, we'll get her. But you've gotta promise to pull your weight when you're home.'

Eames held his hand up in a scouts salute, 'My word of honour.'

'Ok, let's get her.' Arthur smiled at Eames, who pulled out his wallet. He started to protest, but Eames shushed him. 'My treat.' He said.

After making sure all the immunisations were up to date, collecting the papers and buying basic supplies, the pair left the shop. 

The puppy pulled on the lead as they walked back to the car. 

'Theres still one thing to do' said Eames, settling into the drivers seat. He surveyed Arthur next to him, trying to keep the puppy from jumping from his lap out the window. 

'Whats that?' Asked Arthur, trying to keep his as mouth closed as possible as the dog licked him. 

Eames snorted. 'A name?'

Arthur stared at the brown ball of fluff on his lap. She looked back sat him, wagging her tail.

'Penny?' He suggested.

'I had a friend called Penny.' Said Eames. 'What about Bessie?'

'I like that. Bessie.' She looked like Bessie, he thought.

Eames laughed good naturedly and stroked her head.

'Welcome to the family, Bessie,' he said as they started the journey home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment and let me know what you think! :)


	4. Making Dinner

Making dinner

Arthur sighed and put his key in the door. A fortnight long job had kept him away from home, and boy was he glad to be back. It was late evening, and Arthur had entertained the idea of booking into a hotel for the night, rather than wake Eames. But he had eventually decided against it and, as he pushed open the front door, he was glad. Bessie, now almost eight months old, bounded up to him, barking furiously. He grinned, kneeling down to give her a pat, rubbing her ears affectionately. 

'That bloody dog hasn't moved an inch all day,' came a welcome voice from somewhere near the kitchen. 'You would've thought she was a taxidermists experiment; then you come in and she wakes up!'

Arthur grinned as he pushed himself to his feet, Bessie yapping around his legs. 'She knows where her loyalties lie.' he said as he pushed open the kitchen door. He stopped short. 'Are you cooking?'

Eames gave him a hurt look and went back to stirring the sauce on the stove. 'Yes, actually. I am cooking. Hello to you too.' He was dressed in a chefs apron and pyjama pants, several bowls and utensils scattered around him.

Arthur smiled fondly at him, pressing a kiss to the forgers cheek, making Eames chuckle. 'I'm just surprised, that's all.' He said. He went to stick his finger in the sauce, and let out a yelp when Eames smacked his hand with the spoon. 

'I like to experiment sometimes. We had chicken and tomato pie the other day. I even made a soufflé.'

'We?' Enquired Arthur, sitting himself down at the table. 

'Me and Bessie,' smiled Eames conversationally, moving over to pick up what looked like freshly made meatballs. 'She's quite the culinary expert.'  
'Right.' Arthur massaged his head, blinking tiredly. Bessie came up to him and leaned her head on his thigh. He scratched her ears distractedly as he watched Eames put the meatballs one by one into the sauce.

'You should cook more often,' he told the Englishman, 'it's a good look for you.'

Eames grinned, and gave a little bow. 'I've always liked cooking; we just don't always have the time to cook fresh. And it's not as if you've ever tried.'

That was true; Arthur could, and frequently would, burn toast. And eggs. Eames even joked he could burn cereal if he put his mind to it. He could make a good sponge cake though, a remnant of his childhood.

Eames put the spoon down and turned to him, smiling gently. Arthur looked tiredly up at him. 

'Help me with the herbs?' He asked, holding out a handful of fresh parsley.

Arthur eyed him. 'Do you want me to chop my hand off?' He asked standing up and taking a sharp knife from the drawer.

Eames moved to stand directly behind him and held the knife over Arthur's hand, breath huffing in the Point Man's ear. 'If you're careful,' he breathed, slicing the herb into small pieces and arranging them on the chopping board. 'You can do anything.'

Arthur smiled and leaned into his warm body, 'That a fact?' He asked, as he watched Eames slide excess parsley off the knife with his finger.  
'Mmm.' 

They stood there for a while, listening to the sauce bubble and Bessie's fast breathing behind them. It was nice just to stand and not to over think the situation, thought Arthur. Just to be.

'If you want this dinner sometime tonight, I best put that spaghetti in the water,' said Eames, moving away. Arthur sighed and sat back at the table.

He watched Eames snap the spaghetti and put it in the water, mixing the sauce again when he was done. Eames then walked over to the cupboard and pulled out a candle, which he put on the table in front of Arthur.

'For ambience.' he said as he lit it.

Arthur smiled at him and grabbed his collar, bringing him in for a kiss. 'This is nice.' he said as he released him.

'It is, isn't it?' agreed Eames, looking around with twinkling eyes. 'We don't do this often enough.'

Arthur shook his head in agreement. 'We should try. At least once a month.'

'Once a month?' repeated Eames incredulously, smirking. 'If I had my way we'd do this every day of the bloody week.'

'We'd run out of candles,' Arthur pointed out, grinning.

Eames scoffed and stirred the sauce again. He pulled two plates out of the cupboard and started to drain the spaghetti. 

Arthur moved to grab knives and forks out of the draw and grinned as Eames put the plates on the table.

'Parmesan?' Asked the Englishman, shaking the little container.

'Please.'

Eames sat himself down opposite Arthur and dug in, winding his spaghetti around his fork. Arthur, ever precise, used his spoon to carefully twist his spaghetti, making Eames chuckle.

Arthur smiled into his plate, looking up when Eames hooked his ankle around his calf under the table. Eames looked back at him, widening his eyes in innocence and smirking. Arthur felt his stomach flip with affection for the man opposite him.

They ate in a contented silence, the only sounds the occasional car horn out the window and Bessie's snoring from her basket next to the fridge. When they finished Eames collected their plates and packed them in the dishwasher. 

Arthur stretched out, full. He let out a happy groan.

'I do hope you left room for dessert, my love.' said Eames, grinning. 'I made tiramisu.'

Arthur groaned again, but sat up straight when Eames placed the dessert in front of him. He caught the forgers eye and Eames smiled softly.  
'It'll wait,' he said, 'You won't enjoy it if you don't want it.'

Arthur nodded, but leant forward anyway to dig his finger in the cream. He licked it, curling his tongue around his finger. He heard Eames stutter out a breath.

'Lets save it for tomorrow. ' he told his partner, standing up and smoothing out his waistcoat. 'Why don't we head to bed; I'm exhausted.'

Eames nodded and put the dessert back in the fridge. 'Right behind you, love. Just let me tidy up here, and I'll be there,'

Arthur nodded tiredly, unbuttoning his shirt as he moved into the bedroom.

As quick as he could Eames packed the dishwasher and turned it on, spreading a damp cloth around the surfaces. He stripped off his apron and made sure the door was locked. He walked into the bedroom but stopped with his hand on the doorframe.

Arthur was tucked peacefully under the covers, his normally carefully gelled hair unkempt and fly away on the pillow. The younger man looked utterly relaxed lying there and Eames felt his heart swell. Quickly and quietly, he moved to the bed and gently climbed in. He smiled as Arthur moved towards him and he lay down flat so Arthur could lay his head on his chest.

It had been a good night, he thought, as he drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment :)


	5. Washing Up

Washing up

'Eames, pass me that dish.'

'Please?' Eames teased, grinning. 

They were in their kitchen, the candles on the table almost burnt to the wick. The evening traffic outside their window was muted by the soft music coming from the radio.

Eames was sat stretched out on the chair at the dinner table, utterly stuffed. They had just laid on a birthday dinner for Cobb. Yusef and Ariadne had come bearing gifts of wine, which had flowed freely while James and Phillipa had been on their best behaviour, except for when Saito had turned up; they had gotten quite attached to the businessman. 

'Please?' Smiled Arthur, reaching out a soapy hand. He had undone the first few buttons of his shirt, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. Eames grinned at him and tried to get up. Instead he huffed and fell back down again, holding his stomach.

'Uhh...' He moaned, closing his eyes. 'I knew I shouldn't have had that third dessert.'

Arthur scoffed and moved to get the dish himself. 'I did say that.' He told the Forger, as he dunked the dish into the hot water. 'Remember I said that?'

'Yeah yeah, you were right, I was wrong. As always.' Eames still had his eyes closed and a pained expression on his face.  
'I think I'm dying.' He moaned again.

Arthur laughed and Eames opened one eye. 'Are you laughing at me in my final moments?' he asked, 'That's charming, that is. Is my impending doom funny to you?'

'You are so dramatic.' Arthur laughed, leaving the dish to soak. He walked over to Eames and blew soap bubbles at him. He bent down and put his finger to his partners nose, leaving a large bubble. 'You've got indigestion. That's all.'

'Is it though? Is it? Because I've died a fair few times and this definitely feels like dying to me.'

Arthur laughed and bent down to kiss his partners cheek. 'I'd hate to be around you when you get sick.' He said, moving back over to the sink. ' I thought you Brits were meant to be tough. Stiff upper lip and all.'

Eames opened his eyes and glared at him. 'I'll have you know, the longer we're around you yanks, the quicker we lose our stiffness.'

Arthur choked, and stared at Eames, who had an innocent expression on his face. 'Is that so?'

Eames nodded and rubbed his stomach. 'So be nice to me.'

'Aw, do you want me to give you a belly rub?' Cooed Arthur, stalking forwards with his hands outstretched. 

'No no.' Eames heaved himself up. 'I'm going to have a bath and die quietly. If you hear some manic splashing, it's just me. So don't worry.'

Arthur grinned, a sympathetic expression on his face. 'Okay...give me five minutes-'

'No no. Don't put yourself out for my sake.' Eames stuck his tongue out and smiled sardonically, shuffling out the door.

Arthur watched him go with a fond smile and turned back to the sink. He heard the tap running and Eames grunting as he undressed himself, and stacked the last plate to drain on the rack, drying his hands. He made his way to the bathroom.

He had a Forger he had to go and rescue.


End file.
